The Brothers Winchester
by PeppermintKisses
Summary: Too proud to ask for directions, Dean and Sam Winchester get lost and end up in Storybrooke, Maine. When an out- of- the- ordinary death occurs in the area, the brothers decide to investigate. The last thing they expect to find is magic. And even more unexpected? A unique connection with the small town's residents that Sam and Dean can feel, but can't begin to explain.
1. Prologue

The man irritably gripped the fabric of his jeans just below the knee. With a groan he pulled his limp leg up to rest on the seat of the adjacent chair. For a moment he stared at the limb, the familiar dread weighing on his heart. The affliction had spread too far and no number of good deeds or promises of best behavior could save him now. So he cracked his knuckles and focused on the task at hand.

His long fingers flew adeptly over the typewriter's sleek, black keys and he wrote:

_ A Forward_

_ The book you are about to read is not a work of fiction. I realize that statement seems incredulous, but to those who believe, the information I'm about to disclose will prove to be of the utmost value. _

_ You are familiar with Snow White, Rumpelstiltskin, and the Evil Queen. Not because of _Once Upon A Time;_ you knew their names before you opened my last book. You know them because their stories, those "fairytales", have been thriving in various forms for decades. There are innumerable versions of each tale, I just brought you those which are true. But no story can be told without a cast of characters. I do wish I could say that I am creative enough to dream up such a motley band of personalities such as the ones in "Once". But I can't. I do not possess the power to create life through storytelling. Not literally. Not as _they_ can._

_ Two human brothers with naught a penny to their name, began to envision a world where gold could be spun from silk. The same two who had both lost love to sickness, imagined a place where true love's kiss could restore life. Magic. A world with fairies and dwarves, dragons and witches, all the things they'd heard about in old legends. They wrote their tales for fun, unaware of the power they wielded; bringing magic to life. _

_ As I myself have only discovered recently, It truly is because of them that you and I exist. With the information I have accrued, I will share with you their story (which I can promise you is quite fascinating). It's the true story of two brothers who changed the world forever. They brought with them goodness in the purest form, but also an evil that might never be vanquished. If this evil wins-_

The man paused and lifted the hem of his jeans just enough to reveal the wooden ankle underneath. "It's all over." He muttered.

_-then all is lost. But there are whispers on the wind carrying hope. If the brothers come back, we will be saved. Of course, that's under the condition that they're even alive. After they disappeared (no worries, I'll explain later), they were never heard from again. But I won't ignore a whisper, especially when it's a hopeful one. So I'll continue to hope and I'll write this book for you because it is all I can do_.

"It's all I can do." So he took a swig of his beer, replaced page number one with a blank sheet of paper, and typed the title of his new book:

_ The Brothers Grimm_

**To Be Continued?**

**A/N: I've had this idea for a SPN/OUaT fic for some time now. If it's well received, I'd like to continue. We shall see!**


	2. Sam- Welcome to Storybrooke

Sam Winchester sat shotgun, head against the rest, staring impassively out the passenger window. The Impala raced past forest terrain that seemed to have no end. Tall trees, short trees, dead trees. Trees with big leaves, trees with gnarled branches. Sam was sick of trees. He watched the sinking sun dance between them, flickering golden rays across his face like they were speaking Morse code. Maybe if he was lucky, the rays would direct him to the nearest motel. _Yeah, right._

Sam turned to look at his older brother. The elder Winchester's firm grip on the steering wheel had turned his knuckles white. Brow furrowed, lips pursed; Dean was not happy. _Serves you right,_ Sam mused. _I told you we should have stopped for directions. _At that moment Dean's eyes met Sam's with a glare.

"Shut up, bitch!" He barked.

Sam lifted his hands, palms out, and shook his head. "Dude, I didn't say anything."

"Why are you smirking?"

"What, I can't smile now?"

"You weren't smiling, Sam. You were _smirking_. Smart ass."

Sam sighed.

"Don't sigh either. You sound like a chick who just got dumped before prom."

Sam rolled his eyes, took a deep breath, and mentally recited the alphabet in reverse. For a moment all he could hear was the Rolling Stones._ Yeah_, Sam thought cynically. _You guys aren't the only ones who can't get some satisfaction_. Was getting out of that car really too much to ask?

"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted, veering the car to the side of the road and slamming into park. Sam looked at his brother, nonplussed, waiting for an explanation. Dean breathed in and out heavily through his nose. Then he turned to Sam, and in a voice somewhere between a growl and a sigh he said, "Well, I think we're lost Sammy."

Sam's eyes narrowed. _Yeah, Dean. Ya think?_

"Baby's just about running on empty."

_Well great. _Sam resisted the urge to sock his brother in the face.

Dean scratched the back of his head and said "We probably should have asked for directions at that last rest stop. Why didn't you do that?"

Sam gritted his teeth. "You said you knew where we were gong."

"And you believed me? Geez Sam. I'd have thought by now you'd have learned I have no sense of direction." Dean chuckled.

Sam chortled back, then reached for his brother's throat.

Then there came a rap at Sam's window. Both brothers whirled around to locate the source. A tall, slender man with a thin, pointed nose was standing outside the car. Dressed in a smart, black suit and tie, he leaned on a polished, oak cane. He gestured to the window.

"Please don't be a cop." Dean mumbled.

"Yeah, Dean. He really looks like law enforcement."

"Undercover?" Dean shrugged his shoulders.

Sam groaned and rolled the window down. "Uh, can we help you?"

The man lowered his head. He had a sly grin and a glint in his eyes that suggested he harvested many secrets. This was a man of power not to be fooled with.

"Actually boys, I was hoping I might be of help to you." He spoke with a european accent. His words were slow and deliberate. "You seem lost." He added knowingly.

"Yeah, well my brother here thinks he's above navigational help."

Dean shot Sam a dirty expression. "Listen, if you could just point us in the direction of the nearest town, that would be great."

The stranger cocked his head. "The nearest town? Why, that would be this one of course." The brothers looked at each other. "Why, did you not notice? You've just entered Storybrooke. Welcome!"

**To Be Continued...**

**A/N: If you've read/reviewed my prologue, I thank you and hope you enjoyed it! This was a short chapter. As I get into the heart of the story, they will more than likely get progressively longer. But not too long. Even as a reader I prefer shorter chapters :)**


	3. Dean- Night Terror

"Creepy as that guy was, he was right about the burgers here. This is freakin' delicious!" Dean watched Sam spear a carrot with his fork. _Sammy, always with the rabbit food. _Dean took another giant bite of burger with defiance, a glob of ketchup painting his right cheek.

"Glad you approve," chimed the dark-haired waitress as she passed the brother's table. Dean grinned goofily and swallowed his food.

"I do approve," he agreed, then muttered as he watched her bend over to clean a nearby table, "boy, do I approve." He raised his eyebrows twice. Sam shook his head in disgust. Whatever. His baby brother could hide it all he wanted, Dean had seen him check out the waitress. With her tight red shorts, low cut blouse, and pretty smile, a guy would have to be dead not to notice her. It took Sam's fingers snapping in his face to bring Dean back to earth.

"What?"

"You didn't hear a word I just said, did you?" Sam sounded mildly irritated.

"Sorry, man. Just distracted. Do you see the legs on her?" Dean remarked with a low whistle.

"My mind's on other things right now, Dean. How about thinking with whatever _brains_ you have, okay?"

Dean stuffed a french fry into his mouth. "I'm listening." He said mid-chew. "No need to be so testy."

"Look, I just-didn't you think that that Mr. Gold guy was a bit…peculiar? I mean," Sam leaned in towards his brother as his voice grew softer. "How did he know we were lost out there? What was he even _doing_ out there?"

Dean begrudgingly set down his burger and wiped his hands and face with a red linen napkin. "Listen Sam, the guy told us. He was out for a walk, saw us, and stopped to help. That's it. Don't go making this into a case." He shifted to lean back in his chair. His brother looked incredulous. _Oh god, here we go. _

"Right, he was 'just going for a walk.' To the town line. Where there's nothing to see but trees and pavement. It was all coincidence. Guy just has impeccable timing, that's all." Sarcastic Sam. Dean hated sarcastic Sam but he couldn't deny that there was truth to his brother's words. Mr. Gold really was an odd duck. Not in a demon, vampire, shape-shifter kind of way, but there was something that didn't quite set right.

For one thing, Gold had offered no first name. He introduced himself as Mr. Gold. Why so formal? It was almost as if he'd wanted to keep them guessing. Then he had seemed all too eager to help them into town. Initially Dean had written that off as altruism, but then Gold had insisted they stay in town for the night. He'd said the roads were hazardous after sunset and that they'd have better luck in the morning. There was an inn and diner in the heart of town where they could get food and some much needed rest. But even that seemed normal. Gold was simply a kind man, looking out for Dean and his brother. Then he said something strange.

"You boys are lost. You may very well find what you're looking for right here. Who knows, perhaps its been here all along." Dean's stomach had grumbled then. "Granny's Diner really has the best hamburgers in the state. You should try one."

So they took his suggestion. He'd been right about the burgers, but what he'd meant about finding what they'd been looking for…both brothers were baffled. Dean voted not to dwell on it. They'd stay the night, Sam would ask for directions, and then they'd be back on the road to Boston the next morning. Sam was dwelling.

"Maybe we could stay for a day or two. You know, check out the town a bit." The younger Winchester suggested.

Dean finished the last of his dinner and shook his head. "We have a hunt in Boston. We're not going to risk more people dying from whatever the hell is out there so that we can play tourist here."

Sam was silent for a moment, then he nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry. It's just, this place. There's a certain _presence_ here. Do you feel it?" Dean watched his younger brother's anxious eyes dart across the diner.

Dean removed a twenty dollar bill from his wallet, tossed it on the table, and stood. "You know what Sam, I do feel it and I don't like it. So let's check into a room, get some sleep, and get the hell outta here soon as the sun comes up tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay." Sam agreed.

"Excuse me darlin'," Dean called to the waitress.

"What can I do for you?" She smiled flirtatiously.

Dean could think of several things, but he chose to stick with asking about a room. At his request her eyes moved from him to Sam and then back again.

"Oh! I didn't realize you two were-"

_Seriously? Again? _"We're brothers."

"Gotcha." She grinned and called over to a white-haired woman who Dean could only assume was _the_ Granny. "These two need a room. They're brothers." She added when she saw the curious look on the old woman's face.

"Ah, well, I have a lovely room with a view available." She chuckled. "Just messing with you. Come with me."

_So the people of Storybrooke have a sense of humor. Wonderful. _Dean followed behind Sam as Granny showed them to their room.

* * *

_The woman was attractive. Dark hair, dark eyes. Damp eyes. She was crying. But the tears weren't sad. She was trembling with rage. Her hate was so strong it was nearly palpable. Her lip was bleeding. Or was it just smudged lipstick? In her hand she held a familiar object. It glowed pink, pulsating like... a beating heart. But it couldn't be. The woman's fingers tightened around the object and she began to squeeze. White hot pain. Constricting chest. Tighter and tighter, pain intensifying. A flash of white light. Then darkness. _

Dean woke, chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. He was soaked with sweat. Sam was beside him, his right hand gripping his brother's shoulder, shaking him awake. "Dean! Dean, are you alright?"

Dean sat up, taking a moment to feel cool air pass through his lungs. Then he looked his brother dead in the eye and said "Sam, someone's just been murdered."

**To Be Continued...**

**A/N: Instead of titling my chapters "Chapter 1" "Chapter 2" etc., I'll probably start titling them to reflect the character whose POV I'm writing in. It's going to switch quite a bit and I don't want it to get confusing for you guys (or me for that matter haha). Thanks again to everyone who's taken the time to read/favorite/follow/review my nonsense. I'm having a lot of fun so far!**


	4. The Brothers Winchester - A Grimm Deal

_The winter of 1785 was a particularly brutal one in Hanau, Germany. The season was wrought with sickness, many lives were lost. But midst the suffering and death, there was also life. After the tragic loss of their first child, Philipp and Dorothea Grimm were welcoming their second into the world. Jacob was born strong, healthy, and beautiful. Just as the man with the yellow eyes had promised, for prior to baby Jacob's birth, a deal had been struck..._

_The loss of a child creates a void that can never be filled and an unrelenting pain that can't be soothed. Philipp watched as his baby girl died in his wife's arms. He had held her little hand until it turned lifeless and cold. Dorothea wept, her crystal tears shimmering on the face of their precious little girl, until she fell unconscious from exhaustion._

_What followed in the Grimm household was months of solemness. Dorothea was depressed and Philipp feared to mention the desire he felt to have another child. So he stayed by his wife's side, swearing to care for her, even if it meant abandoning his hopes. And for a while, that's exactly what he did. Then he met the yellow- eyed man._

_It was early spring and the flowers Philipp had planted around his daughter's headstone were beginning to bloom. The little bursts of yellow, red, and orange made him smile. So he sat beside the grave and began describing their beauty to his little girl. Then a shadow was cast over him, blocking the golden sun in its cerulean sky. A stranger stood before him, cloaked all in black. He gazed down at Philipp and the grave._

_"My apologies for interrupting your lovely conversation," the man's voice was a quiet rasp. Philipp shivered. "I just thought I might be of some help."_

_Philipp cautiously raised himself from his seat on the grass, his eyes never parting from the stranger's. As he rose to meet them levelly, fear gripped his heart; they were yellow. Philipp had heard legends of men with eyes like that. They preyed on those in dire need of…something. Anything. These men struck deals and made bargains like the sun rises and falls; it came naturally to them, and there was always a price. It was believed that these men were more monster than human and that (according to the legends) they were soldiers to the devil himself. Philipp had never been one to believe in such nonsense, but as he stared into the man's amber eyes, he could think of no other explanation._

_"What do you want?" Philipp's voice betrayed him; he was terrified._

_"No need to be afraid, Grimm."_

_"Who are you?"_

_The man smiled, his eyes grew brighter. "Someone who can help you. I know how much you desire a child. Your wife too, despite her current state._

_"Wha-what can you do to help me?"_

_"Well now, it's more a question of what we can do for each other."_

_So a deal was struck, and Jacob Grimm was born. Despite the dreary weather outside, Philipp and Dorothea's life together had brightened. For Philipp, the nightmares that began to plague him seemed a small price to pay._

**To Be Continued...**

**A/N: Thanks again to everyone who read/followed/favorited/reviewed; it helps to keep me going! It's taken a while for this chapter to get here, I apologize. I hate when life gets in the way of my fun! Good news is, I've started the next chapter so it should be up within the next couple days.**


	5. Sam- Strange Interrogation

**Sam**

"The days leading up to his death, did you notice anything strange? Change of behavior or routine?"

Mary Margaret sat in silent contemplation for several moments, dabbing her misty eyes with a tissue. "I'm sorry, all this just happened so suddenly. Graham was a good friend."

Sam nodded, "I understand. Please, take your time."

She smiled weakly, flashing dimples, gulped, and took a breath. "There was something. Yesterday afternoon Graham came here to see me. He was frightened, panicked. He asked me how long we've known…we knew," she exhaled sharply, "each other. How we met. Said he couldn't remember anything before Storybrooke. But he was sick, burning up with fever. I should have called Dr. Whale. Maybe this wouldn't have happened." She blew her nose into the tissue. Sam offered her a new one and she gratefully accepted.

"He was very sick, I doubt there was much you could have done. Don't blame yourself." Sam placed a hand on hers and patted it reassuringly.

"Thank you," she sniffled.

"Now, how _did_ the two of you meet?" Sam felt a bit guilty pressing the inquiries with Mary Margaret in such an upset state, but he had a job to do. Something wasn't setting right. Sam had heard of an individual experiencing amnesia _after_ a heart attack, but before? How could a man, healthy as a horse, who had no history of dementia or heart disease, suddenly forget where he came from, suffer a severe heart attack, and die? None of it added up.

Mary Margaret furrowed her eyebrows and a period of silence elapsed. Sam eyed her curiously. "Is everything okay?"

Her brown, doe-eyes met Sam's and she frowned. "I can't remember."

_Can't remember. Now that's interesting. _"What do you mean you can't remember?" Sam encouraged.

She flicked her dark bangs away from her eyes and then tightly folded her hands in her lap. "Like I told Graham, I think after a while, life becomes hazy. It's hard to keep up when everything's constantly changing. I have a hard enough time keeping track of my own life." She laughed ruefully.

Sam nodded. She had a point. Much of his life had become a blur as well. _But I still remember the moment I met my closest friends._

"You said he mentioned not being able to remember anything before Storybrooke."

Mary Margaret adjusted her long, floral skirt and leaned forward in her chair. "Yes. He was so scared."

Calmly, Sam asked "And what about you?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Her face paled. "I…I don't know."

This was getting stranger by the minute. Sam glanced at his watch. He needed to wrap up this interrogation and meet back with Dean soon, see what he found out. _Bet I've out-weirded him, that's for sure. _Mary Margaret continued to search her mind with increasing puzzlement.

Sam frowned. "Listen, if you remember anything, anything at all about Graham," he paused. "Or yourself. You give me a call, alright?"

She nodded. "I will. Thank you agent Carroll."

Sam rose from the student desk he was sitting on and strode towards the door.

"Wait, agent Carroll!" Mary Margaret hurried down the aisle of desks towards him. "There was something else Graham asked me yesterday that was a little strange. He asked me if I believe in past lives."

_Past lives. _There were many things Sam believed in; angels, demons, ghost, monsters. But those things were real. He'd seen them, hunted and killed them himself. He'd died and been brought back to life, but back to life in the present. Sam wasn't sure if he believed in reincarnation, but it was an interesting detail to have pop up in such a bizarre death case.

"Thank you Mary Margaret, I'll be sure to include that detail in my report."

Once outside the schoolhouse he loosened his tie and rang Dean on his cell phone.

"How'd it go, Sammy?" Dean seemed to be in a much better mood than the one Sam had left him in. He'd been really spooked by the vision of Graham's death and Sam couldn't blame him. Having experienced them before himself, he knew how unpleasant such glimpses of the future could be.

"I'll tell you about it at the diner. I just want to swing by our room and change first. Let's just say it was interesting."

Dean chuckled. "Funny you should say that. That's the word I would have chosen to describe _my_ afternoon. Good thing I had that vision or we wouldn't have known anything weird was going on at all."

Sam's mood sobered. "About your vision Dean-"

"I mean, I found out some really weird-ass stuff!"

Sam sighed, why was he not surprised by Dean's evasion? He decided to let his brother win. _For now. _ "Twenty bucks says my findings were stranger."

"Hoho, Sammy, you should not have done that. I'll take that bet, bitch!"

"Jerk." Sam grinned, ending the conversation. As he walked to the inn he reconsidered Dean's words. Good thing he had that vision? In this case perhaps, but the elephant remained; why did Dean have the premonition in the first place?

**To Be Continued...**

**A/N: I'm baaaack. I apologize for the disappearance. Long story short, don't get carpal tunnel, guys. It's not fun. As always, thanks for the reads, the reviews, and the follows; I live for them :D Also, I want to apologize for killing Graham (again) but it had to be done. I do adore him, and I cried for many hours when he died on the show. Maybe someday I'll give him his own fic :)****  
**


	6. Dean- Meeting Miss Swan

Dean straightened his tie before stepping out of his classic Impala. The last ten hours had been strange. Never in his life had Dean experienced anything like it. He had so desperately hoped that what he saw had just been a bad dream, but the vividness of the scene convinced him otherwise. Somehow Dean had witnessed a murder moments before it had happened. _How?_

Last night, he'd shot out of bed and pulled on a pair of blue jeans before sprinting to the door.

"Dean! Where are you going?" Sam made to follow. Dean held up a hand.

"Don't follow me, Sam. Just stay here. I'll be back in a few." He flashed his baby brother a cheeky grin and slipped out the door.

Instinct led him to the police station. Well, instinct and the wailing of an ambulance siren. Dean stood with the growing crowd outside the station. A few onlookers gasped in horror as a blanketed body strapped to a gurney, was extricated from the building. A wavy-haired blond was close behind, being led by an escort. Her eyes were moist with tears, her expression blank. She appeared to be in a state of shock. Not so surprising for someone who had just watched a man bite the dust. It was obvious she had some sort of relationship with the victim. Girlfriend, maybe? Not that it mattered. Dean was more concerned with the fact that he had had a real premonition. Visions were supposed to be Sam's freaky little gift, not his. For a moment a terrifying thought crossed his mind. _What if I'm part demon? What if there is demon blood flowing through my veins? _No. He would know. His father would have known. He dismissed the theory as quickly as it had been formulated.

Dean needed to get back to Sam. It was as he was driving away that he saw a woman dressed in a sharp pantsuit dash towards the ambulance. The same woman who had crushed a man's heart into dust.

* * *

That morning, Dean and Sam had paid a visit to the morgue. The man was Graham Humbert, Storybrooke's sheriff. Dr. Whale had ruled that the cause of death was a heart attack, yet Graham had no prior heart problems.

"Just a terrible tragedy," the doctor shook his head sadly. "Graham was very well liked by everyone. It's hard to think that he's gone. Just like that." Whale eyed Sam and Dean suspiciously. "So you two are from the Boston office, huh? What did you say your names were?"

"We didn't say," Dean smirked. _Jerk. _

"I apologize for my partner. His sense of humor can often be-well, not funny. I'm agent Carroll, this is agent Andersen. Please, if any further information becomes available, do give us a call." He offered his hand to Whale, and they shook on the agreement. Sam was so much better at this than Dean. The former gestured towards the door, and the two made their exit.

In the Impala they discussed a quick game plan. "Alright, so we have school teacher Mary Margaret, Mayor Regina Mills and her son Henry, and deputy Emma Swan. They were the last few people to see Graham alive. Emma was _the_ last." Sam read off the notes he'd taken during their talk with Dr. Whale. "I think we should split up. It'll get the job done a lot faster."

"I agree. I ain't taking on the town's mayor by myself, though. I'll talk to deputy Swan." Dean made an attempt to hide his smirk but Sam caught it.

"Didn't you see her last night?"

"I dunno, may have. Why?"

"Let me guess. She's hot." Sam said pointedly.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "if we have to do this, we might as well enjoy ourselves, right?"

His brother laughed. "I guess I'll take the school teacher, then."

Dean lifted an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Well make sure to be a naughty boy. Maybe she'll teach you a lesson."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and drive."

* * *

When Dean arrived at the Sheriff's office, Emma Swan had her face in her hands, elbows propped up on her desk. She looked exhausted. _Well of course she is, her boyfriend just croaked. _

Dean politely cleared his throat. She didn't stir. Louder. This time her head whipped around and she blinked at him anxiously. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm sorry, did I startle you?"

Emma narrowed her eyes. "Who the hell are you?"

Dean put on his best poker face. "Mind losing the attitude, Ma'am? Federal agent." He held out his counterfeit badge.

"Oh? And what pray tell is a federal agent doing here in Storybrooke?" Emma eyed Dean's badge suspiciously.

Dean tucked away his ID, strolled over to Emma, and leaned casually against her desk. "The death of Mr. Graham Humbert." He watched Emma's eyes widen and paused. For dramatic effect, of course. "We believe his death was…premeditated."

"Premeditated?

Dean nodded grimly.

Are you suggesting he was _murdered_?" She whispered harshly.

"Miss Swan, I need you to tell me if Graham had any enemies. Do you know anyone who might have held a grudge against him? Anyone who was upset with him for any reason?"

Emma shook her head. "No. Graham was…" she bit her bottom lip and bowed her head. Dean waited patiently for her to regain composure. Finally she looked up at Dean with fortitude. "I was with Graham when he died. One minute he was alive, everything was wonderful." She shrugged her shoulders and smiled slightly. "Then he was gone. Just like that."

Dean pursed his lips. "Did you notice anything strange before his death? Did he seem alright?"

"Well, he was convinced that he didn't have a heart, and he was seeing a wolf everywhere. Does that sound alright to you?"

Dean blinked quizzically. "A wolf? Like, a wolf wolf?"

"Yes. But that part was real. I saw it too. A grey wolf, with one bright red eye, and one blacker than coal."

The eye coloring was odd yes, but other than that, a wolf sighting in a heavily forested area wasn't Dean's idea of strange. _But what is totally strange..._

"Why would he think he didn't have a heart?"

"He was sick. He had a high fever. He was uttering nonsense that he earnestly believed was true. I tried to tell him everything was fine, of course he had a heart. But he wouldn't listen. He kept insisting it had been taken."

"Taken. By who?"

Emma rubbed her brow and frowned. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation," she muttered to herself. "Mayor Mills."

"Mayor Mills. Does she happen to be a brown-eyed brunette with a fondness for red lipstick and pantsuits?"

Emma nodded slowly. I assume you've met her, then?"

Now everything was starting to come together. Dean shook his head. "Just a lucky guess. So, did she and Graham get along, or was there some hostility?

Emma rolled her eyes. "Look, his autopsy report states he had a heart attack that killed him instantly. There was no "foul play" involved Agent Anderson. Just a sucky situation that couldn't have been prevented."

Dean nodded. "So…no enemies?"

Emma narrowed her eyes. "Graham was well-respected and loved. By everyone. No one would have wanted to hurt him. So who the hell are you to come in here with the audacity to suggest otherwise? You didn't know Graham and you sure don't know anything about this town. Now please, leave." She buried her face in her hands once again.

There was something she wasn't telling him. Not helpful. Dean couldn't stand when people withheld information from him._ Can't you see I just want to help you? _

Emma's dark eyes met Dean's. "Help me?"

Did he really say that out loud. _Crap_.

"You're just a suit, who couldn't care less that a good man is dead. I'm sorry you're disappointed it wasn't homicide. Makes your job a lot less exciting, I'm sure." She stood from her chair.

_Double crap_. "Emma, it's not like that!" He got to the office door before she did.

"Get out of my way!"

"I will!" The girl may have been gorgeous but man, was she a pain.

She folded her arms across her chest and glared up at him. "Well."

Dean, exasperated, rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "Listen, if you think of any details that you forgot to mention, I want you to give me a call."

Emma put her hands up. "I already told you what happened. No one has been murdered."

_Keep it up with the attitude, Emma and someone might be. _Dean fought the temptation to say that out loud, figuring real FBI agents probably didn't usually threaten the people they interrogated.

"I understand that, Miss Swan. It's just protocol." He held out a card with his cell number. Emma took it from him, reading it silently to herself.

Without looking up she asked "why are you so sure Graham was murdered?"

_Why? Because I saw the murder in a dream, of course! _"I just have a hunch. I have a knack for this sort of thing. Intuition. It's my superpower."

He was hoping to coerce a smile out of her, but instead she simply looked up at him, deadpan, and said, "well _Agent Andersen_, just so happens I also have a superpower."

Dean chuckled, "Oh yeah, and what's that?"

She smiled slyly. "I can tell when _anyone_ is lying."

_Crap Crap Crap__._

* * *

Sam begrudgingly tossed a twenty-dollar bill onto the table for Dean.

Dean snatched it up and waved it in the air victoriously. "Ah, Sammy. Don't be a poor sport. Guy convinced his heart was removed and held captive by the town's mayor, totally trumps a curiosity for past lives. I won fair and square!" He planted a kiss on the bill and grinned.

Sam looked disgusted. "Dude, money is filthy. Twenty dollars is not worth getting some strange disease for."

"With the zero dollar salary I make from this hunting gig, I'll take anything I can get. Ninety percent of our money has cocaine in it, you know?"

"So I've heard." Sam agreed. After a moment's pause he added, "Dean, how long are we going to avoid talking about the vision you had?"

_Forever_.

Dean groaned. "Sammy, I'm fine."

Sam shifted irritably in his chair. "Yeah, Dean. That's what you keep telling me."

Why did Sam have the occasional need to play therapist? The last thing Dean wanted to discuss was his feelings. "I don't know why it happened, no, but it's the first and only time I've experienced anything like it, so I'm not overly concerned."

"But don't you want to know why?"

"No."

"Why not?"

_Why not? _As a hunter, Dean had had his fair share of bad days, but none had been as unbearable as the day his father died. So much had happened, too fast. His own life was saved at the last moment, his father died after trading Azazel his soul for Dean's, and then there was his father's warning. The last words he ever heard his father speak were about Sam. Turned out Sam's visions were a side effect of demon blood; Azazel had fed some to baby Sam the night Mary Winchester was killed. Dean's father told him that if Sam was to ever let the demon in him take control, it would be Dean's responsibility to kill him. But that never happened. Because Sammy was strong. What if Dean's veins pumped with demon blood too? It would certainly explain the vision. But telling Sam he might have to kill him one day was not something Dean was ready to face. The possibility of needing to destroy Sam had made Dean ache. Why apply that same burden to Sam when it wasn't yet clear what may have caused Dean's premonition? _Besides, I have less than a year left anyway._

"Dean, are you okay?" his younger brother's eyes blazed with concern. If there was anything Dean couldn't stand, it was Sam worrying about _him. _He was the older brother, it was his job to protect Sam. Not the other way around. So he insisted everything was fine.

"Yeah, Sammy. I'm great. Can you pass me the ketchup?"

**To Be Continued...**

**A/N: As always, thanks for the reads, favorites, and follows; you guys are awesome!**


	7. The Brothers Winchester- Big Promises

_The next four years of Philipp's life were a joy. Jacob was strong, smart, and had an unquenchable imagination. During the day he was transforming sticks into swords or magic wands, and at night he refused to go to bed until his father told him a story. He loved his father's stories. Tales of dragons, knights, and fairy princesses were his lullaby. He was a good boy, but Philipp and Dorothea were concerned. The other children didn't respond well to Jacob._

_There was one instance in the market when a few boys Jacob's age were kicking a ball to one another. Philipp suggested Jacob ask to join them. His son was only a few feet away from the boys when they noticed him approaching. The tallest of the bunch abruptly picked up the ball and walked away, the other boys following in his wake. Jacob watched them leave, then turned to his father with tears in his wide green eyes. As a father, it broke Philipp's heart. If Jacob had just one friend, one playmate, he was sure it would make a world of difference. After Jacob had been put to bed that night, Philipp and Dorothea came up with a solution. What could be better companionship than that of two siblings?_

_When Wilhelm was born, there were complications. Philipp explained to Jacob that when he was born he showed his head first. He was wailing, excited to face the world he had become a part of. Wilhelm was just a little scared. That's why he put his toes out first; he wanted to test that the waters were safe. From the moment Jacob first saw Wilhelm, he loved him unconditionally. For a while he kept his distance, fearing baby Wilhelm wouldn't like him. He watched his family from afar. They looked so happy. Then his mother met his eyes and smiled._

_"Jacob. Come here and meet your brother."_

_Nervously, he tiptoed over to the bed. Philipp gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Don't be afraid," he said._

_With awe, Jacob peered at the little bundle in his mother's arms. He couldn't believe that a person could be so small. Warily, he reached out a finger, gently placing it in the center of his brother's palm. When the little fist wrapped around it, Jacob laughed with delight._

_"I don't think he's scared anymore, Dad!" Philipp and Dorothea casted warm smiles at one another._

_"No son. I don't think he is."_

_"You don't have to be scared ever again, Wilhelm," Jacob promised. "I will always protect you, no matter what. I swear on my life."_

_Young Jacob couldn't have imagined then that "life" really would be the price he'd pay._

**To Be Continued...**

**A/N: I love vacation, I can get so much writing done! This one was short, so I was able to get it up quickly :D Thank you again, for reading, following, and reviewing! Hopefully I'll be able to get the next chapter up soon. **


	8. Sam- The Threat

**Sam**

In the end, Sam and Dean agreed that two FBI agents showing up to question the mayor might come off too accusatory. Sam knew his brother would have a tough time questioning her objectively, so he offered.

"If you insist, Sammy. Guess I can find Henry and ask him a few questions then."

Sam shook his head. "Pretty sure it's illegal to interrogate a minor without parental consent."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude, you are aware that we're not actual FBI agents, right?"

This was certainly true. Sam supposed it was a little late to start worrying about legalities now. Sam nodded. "Alright then, you question the kid and I'll have a talk with Mills."

* * *

It was no surprise that the mayor's house was the grandest of them all. Sam pushed the wrought iron gate open and glanced back at Dean who was mouthing "compensating." Sam laughed and started up the cobbled walkway. He heard the crunch of gravel as his brother drove away. To his surprise the front door flew open before he'd even reached the porch steps. Gold appeared, followed by an attractive woman with dark features.

"Get off of my property!" She scowled. Mr. Gold grinned when he noticed Sam who stood silently, watching.

"I'd hold my tongue if I were you, dearie. We have company." He nodded towards Sam. Mayor Mills scrunched up her nose as one would when receiving a whiff of something unpleasant. "Looks like I best take my leave. We'll be in touch." he added. It was unclear to Sam just who the comment was directed towards. Then Gold carefully descended the steps and limped down the path towards him.

"How nice to see you again _agent. _How is the case going?"

Without missing a beat, Sam said "I'm not authorized to disclose that information, Mr. Gold. But I can assure you that my partner and I will obtain the answers we're looking for."

Gold simply nodded. " I certainly do hope so, agent. If you recall, I believe_ I_ was the one who promised you would."

Sam cocked his head and watched as Gold took his leave. _Really weird guy. _None of the witnesses had mentioned Mr. Gold during the interrogations. But if the man had absolutely nothing to do with Graham's death, Sam would be surprised. _It might be worth asking the man a few questions. _

_"Excuse me?" _

Sam flinched. Had someone dropped an ice cube down his shirt? The mayor's voice was cold, biting. Her stilettos clicked along the cobblestone as she approached. The monsters he and his brother killed would quiver with fear under this woman's eye. Sam gulped.

"Mayor Mills, I'm Agent Carroll, I'd like to ask you a few questions concerning-"

"May I first see some identification? Please." Her smile was unctuous.

"Of course." Sam offered her his card which she snatched and studied a while before handing back.

"You've come to ask me about Graham." She folded her arms across her chest and drummed her arms with blood-red nails.

"Yes. Apparently you were one of the last people to see him alive. I need to know if there seemed to be anything wrong with him."

Mills gave a distempered sigh. "Surely by now you've heard that Graham was very sick. A high fever. That's all I know. It was unfortunate, his death. But these things do happen."

"Actually," Sam countered with a shake of his head, "a man Graham's age, with no history of heart disease, dying from a heart attack? That's fairly uncommon."

"Look, _agent_. If you want answers, talk to Emma Swan. She was with him last. If anyone 'tampered' with his life, then she was the only one who had the opportunity to do so. Do a background check. Miss Swan has a history of breaking the law and her life before she moved here to Storybrooke is a big, mysterious question mark. I'm looking for my own answers." She paused. Sam about died from shock when her eyes softened. "While I don't like to go around discussing my private life with _anyone, _I will say that I cared for Graham." Her eyes met Sam's. "I want to find out who is responsible for this more than anyone. I want them brought to justice."

Sam furrowed his brows. "So, you _do_ believe it was murder."

She took a few steps backwards. "I will not put up with these petty interrogations. I have enough on my plate as is. And that includes a memorial service for Graham."

"Mayor Mills, I'm not making accusations-"

"And I'm not saying you are. What I am saying is that I have no intention of handing out information about my life, my town, or the people I care about to someone with a forged FBI badge."

"I don't know what-"

"Don't play games with me. You and your 'partner' have until sun up to get out of my town, or you'll be the ones who'll be answering some questions."

With the threat in the air, she turned on her heels, entered her house, and slammed the door behind her.

Sam stood on the walkway, dumbfounded. The woman really was scary as all hell.

**To Be Continued...**

**A/N: Finally able to get a new chapter up! Thank you all for reading, reviewing, and following :D I feel like I need a cool sign-off phrase haha**


	9. Dean- Profound Notion

**Dean**

Like a sore thumb, Henry Mills was easily identified. While the other children were spending their recess exhausting some pent up energy, Henry sat alone on a wooden park bench. In his lap was a fairly big book and he was studying its contents with a deep frown. The two teachers chaperoning had begun an intense conversation addressing their frustrations with the latest budget cuts. Dean took this opportunity to approach the boy.

"What'cha doing?" Dean eyed the cover of Henry's book.

Henry shaded his eyes from the sun with a free hand and squinted up at Dean. He shrugged. "That depends. Who wants to know and why? I saw you watching me."

Dean chuckled. _Smart kid. "_I'm FBI Agent Andersen." Dean waved his badge ostentatiously but the kid didn't look impressed.

"FBI? What is the FBI doing in Storybrooke?"

"Well…" Dean gestured to the bench. "Mind if I sit?"

After a moment's consideration, Henry granted permission and Dean sat.

"Well Henry, I was hoping you might be able to help me out. I'm in a bit of a bind."

"A bind?"

"Yes. Now, you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to, but I want to talk to you about sheriff Graham."

Henry shifted on the bench and looked back down at his book. _Okay, different approach. _

"What are you reading?"

"Nothing. Just a fairytale book." Henry responded a little too quickly. Dean glanced down at the illustration on the page the kid was reading. A man dressed in black armor held a dagger. On the ground at his feet was a woman donned all in white. Dean recognized the scene but couldn't recall what story it was from. Not that he cared much, Dean had little interest in the genre. When he and Sam worked that case in Maple Springs, Sam was able to identify every fairytale-inspired murder. Dean would test his brother on this one later. _Sammy and his gay side. _Dean snickered.

Henry looked at Dean as a puppy might after being scolded by his master."Go ahead and laugh at me. It's not the first time someone has. You just don't understand."

Dean shook his head. "Oh. No. Sorry kid, I wasn't laughing at you. I was just thinking."

"About what?"

Dean smiled. "My kid brother, Sam. He really digs this fairytale stuff. Me, not so much."

"Let me guess. You think it's just childish make believe." There was something in Henry's tone that suggested that he thought otherwise.

"Well-" Dean mused, "yeah. I mean fairies, magic, everyone always living happily ever after…all a steaming pile of bullshit. Crap. Bull _crap. _Sorry."

Henry grinned. "You don't spend much time around kids, do you?"

"Not a lot." Dean agreed. _And I have a potty mouth. I'm working on it. But not really. _The two shared a laugh. Then there was a calm silence. Dean watched the other children, so young and carefree. The only burden they had to bear was the decision between monkey bars or seesaw. For a moment he envied them and wondered what his own life might have been like if it had just been…normal. As always, the thought was fleeting. If there was such a thing as destiny, then he was living his. Where he was headed there was no turning back. _Hello fire and brimstone. _

Dean closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. Honeysuckle scented the air and he smiled. His mother loved honeysuckle and had a perfume that smelled just like them. A boy ran by, kicking dirt into the air. Dean's nostrils caught the smell of fresh earth and he was taken back to his parent's garden. His father had often let him help plant the seeds. It fascinated Dean that you could plant something in the ground and that it would emerge to take on a new life. Like being reborn.

Then the dirt began to choke him. He was trapped six-feet under, gasping for breath, banging the plank above but no one could here him. His heart raced, beating in time with the sound of the fresh dirt raining down onto his wooden prison. _Not yet. _

Dean's eyes flew open, glancing around wildly as he regained his bearings.

"Your troubled." Henry observed.

"Kid, you have no idea." Dean said through a deep breath.

Nervously, Henry fingered the thick pages in his book. "I think Graham was murdered."

Dean raised both eyebrows and waited for Henry to continue.

"I think that my mother crushed his heart. Because he was beginning to remember."

"Remember what?" Dean prompted.

"Who he really was." Henry pointed to a drawing in his book. This one showed the same man from before, dressed in animal furs. Beside him was an enormous wolf with one black eye, the other red. Didn't Emma say that Graham claimed to have seen the same wolf the day he died? Dean's brows furrowed. _What the hell…_Surely Henry wasn't suggesting that Graham was the guy in his fairytale book.

"What are you saying, Henry?"

"I'm saying that the stories in this book aren't bull _crap. _They're real. Everyone in this town is a fairytale character and Graham was killed because he was the first to figure it out."

Dean stared at Henry in mild shock.

"Excuse me, who are you? Henry, who is this?"

Both Dean and Henry raised their heads in unison to the source of the voice. It was one of the teachers who had been discussing budget cuts.

"I'm with the FBI, asking Henry here a couple questions about Sheriff Graham." Dean stood and held out his hand. She shook it politely but her eyes shifted uncertainly between him and Henry.

"Mary Margaret Blanchard. I spoke with an FBI agent earlier this morning. I didn't think you could question minors without parental consent."

_Damn it_. "Well, uh-"

"He's a friend of my mom's", Henry interceded. "Emma." He added for clarification.

Dean's eyes swiveled around back to Henry. _Emma is his _mom? _That's too bad. I like the kid. _

"Really? Wow. How long have you known Emma?" Mary Margaret seemed genuinely interested.

_Seriously? _"Oh, Emma and I? We go way back. Hard to say exactly how long ago it was. You know time. How it flies and all…" Mary Margaret nodded courteously but it was obvious she thought he was an idiot.

Henry giggled. Dean glared at him.

"Well," Mary Margaret said with a kind smile, "there are about five minutes left for recess, Henry. So you boys should start wrapping this up, okay?"

"Yes, Miss Blanchard."

The young teacher smiled at Dean again. "It was very nice to meet you…I'm sorry I didn't get your name."

"Christian Andersen."

She looked at him quizzically. "Christian Andersen? Like Hans?"

"Hans?" Dean was confused.

"You know what? Never mind. Have a good day." Mary Margaret giggled, leaving the boys to themselves.

"You don't know who Hans Christian Andersen is?"

"Should I?" _Who the hell cares?_ Dean had just taken the name Sam gave him.

"I don't know. Just thought you'd know something about the fairytale writer whose name you stole." Henry closed his book and hopped down from the park bench. "I know you're not really FBI." Henry responded to the confusion on Dean's face.

"I don't know what-"_ Eh fuck it_. " Okay, you're right. But if you knew, why tell me that stuff about Graham?"

The boy shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just like you. You seem like someone I can trust. Someone who might believe me about the fairytales being real."

"Kid, I already told you. I am not a gullible guy."

Henry shook his head. "It isn't about being gullible. It's about opening your eyes to the possibility that life might be more than what's right in front of your face."

Dean blinked down at him "That's profound. You're ten-years old?"

Henry nodded.

_Well what do you know._

**A/N: I don't know about you guys, but I'm glad the interrogations are finally over...I think. I hope. Hmm... :D Thanks again everyone for all of the reviews, follows, and favorites!**_  
_


	10. The Brothers Winchester- Ten Years

_Imagine for a moment that it's your tenth birthday. You're just a child with naught a care in the world. The only concern you may have is whether or not your parents got you that toy rocket ship you've had your eye on for months. The case was not true for Jacob Grimm. His father had been acting strangely all day. Since sun up, Philipp hadn't let any member of his family out of his sight. He'd kissed his wife countless times and hugged his boys more frequently and held them longer than usual. At one point Will was wrapped so tightly in a bear hug, that he glanced helplessly at his older brother. Jacob shrugged his shoulders and smiled, but inside he was worried. Something didn't feel right._

_That evening, Dorothea made a shepherd's pie for dinner and an apple pie for dessert. It was Jacob's request. He loved pie but never had much of an appetite for cake._

_"But you're supposed to have cake. It's your birthday." Six-year old Will insisted._

_"You're not 'supposed' to." Jacob argued._

_"Sure you are. It's tradition!"_

_"Well, it's a dumb tradition. I like pie."_

_Will made a face. "Birthday cake. There's no such thing as a birthday pie."_

_Jacob rolled his eyes._

_"Now boys," Dorothea began but stopped when her husband held his hand up. He shook his head and smiled as if to say, _let them fight. One day we'll miss this.

_After dinner Jacob received his gifts. From Will, an amulet that looked like a man with bull horns. "Where did you get this, Will?"_

_William grinned. "I found it. You like it?"_

_"Love it!"_

_From his mom he received a silver ring that had once belonged to her father. "It might be a bit big now," she laughed as her son eyed the significant gap between the ring and his finger, "but you'll grow into it." She planted a kiss on his forehead._

_"Well, I suppose it's my turn then," Philipp grinned. He handed Jacob a package wrapped in brown paper. Jacob quickly shed the paper and stared in awe at the leather-back tome._

_"Ah! I almost forgot." Philipp then handed his son a feathered quill. "You'll need to fill those pages."_

_Jacob's eyes flew with wild excitement between the journal and quill. Then a realization occurred to him and he hung his head._

_Philipp crouched down to his son's level. "What's the matter?"_

_"What am I going to write?" Jacob said with a sigh._

_"Whatever you want. That's the beauty of a journal. You can fill it with your thoughts. Tell stories. Dream and conceive. Their are no limitations, Jacob. You have the power to create life through words."_

_Jacob's eyes grew so wide they might have burst from his head. Then he threw his arms around his father. "I love you, dad. Thanks."_

_Philipp shed a tear as he held his eldest son for the last time._

* * *

_"Mom! Dad!" Jacob struggled to break free from the arms that held him._

_"Calm yourself, boy!" The man scolded. His voice sounded familiar but Jacob couldn't place it. Didn't care to. He just wanted to run to his parents._

_The raging fire reflected in his eyes as he stared in helpless horror, watching his home burn to the ground. And it was so loud. The crackling from the blazing building, the villagers working to put out the fiery demon before it spread, and the screaming in Jacob's head that lamented the loss of his parents._

_Then a sound pierced through the noise. "Jake!" A piercing cry that immediately snatched Jacob from his frenzy. Wilhelm. Where was he? Jacob burst from the arms of the neighbor who held him and ran toward the sound. A young woman was trying to calm a frantic Will, whose hair was matted with sweat, his face slick with tears. Jacob shoved the girl forcibly away and gripped his brother tightly._

_"It's okay, Will. Everything will be okay."_

_Will shuddered and wiped his running nose on Jacob's shirt. His tears did not subside, but his demeanor calmed considerably._

_Jacob buried his face in his brother's hair and squeezed his eyes shut tight, praying that when he reopened them, he'd be safe in bed._

_But you and I both know that life seldom works that way. Jacob and Wilhelm Grim were indeed alone, and it would be years before they would find out why._

* * *

The man cracked his knuckles and neck. He needed to take a break. His legs felt stiffer. A walk might help. _Besides, it might be nice to check out the subjects of my book in person. Emma and the boy too. _He stood up, stretched, and downed the last of his whiskey. Then he grabbed his motorcycle helmet and limped out of the motel room. Only after checking the lock three times, was he satisfied his belongings would be safe during his excursion.

**To Be Continued...**

**A/N: New Chapter! *dances* You guys have been great with the follows, favorites, and reviews, thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. **


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